I'll Spend My Last Days with You
by KatyGrace
Summary: Fang and Max are separated from the flock, and are together in Las Vegas. Their age mysteriously turns to eighteen one night, and Jeb has a heartbreaking explanation of why. Max and Fang love to the MAX. Takes place in book FANG.
1. This Is Awful

**A/N**

**Hello. I loved Fax and just finished the book FANG. The story starts off from when the flock kicks Max out. (I felt so mad at them for doing that to Max!) This beginning part will sound an awful lot like the book, but it will all be original soon. This is all my writing, with some phrases from the actual scene.**

**I'm not going to beg you for reviews like usual. If you like it, I hope you'll review.**

**Enjoy~**

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><p>I felt like someone had punched me in the gut, and I was flying through the air choppily, tears streaming down my face. You would expect me, Maximum Ride, to be toughing it out, to be thinking logically on how to reconcile with my traitorous flock and convince them I cared for them as much as I cared for Fang, but my thought process was more along the lines of "OMFG-I-CAN'T-BELIEVE-MY-OWN-FAMILY-WOULD-EFFING-KICK-ME-OUT-AFTER-EVERYTHING-I'VE-DONE-FOR-THEM!"<p>

I knew no one could hear me, considering my being over 10,000 feet, leaving me to yell as loud as I wanted. And so I did: I sobbed so much my tears made sure I could hardly see where I was flying and I screamed and howled until my throat was raw and I thrashed around in the air and blubbered something around the lines of, "Ohhh-my-god-thiisss-hurtss-sooo-much!" How could the flock have told me to get lost? To beat it, hit the road, because they didn't want me anymore? I _had _been spending an awful lot of time with Fang and less with them, which I regretted, but had they ever heard of _working things out_? Apparently not.

I flew unsteadily but at an unnaturally fast speed, just wanting to get away from everyone as far as possible, my wings dipping to each side unexpectedly as I wept. I wiped my face in my sleeve as I stopped flying altogether, hovering high above a patch of green underneath me, presumably a forest or park of some sort. My heartbeat quickened to see a familiar dark shadow across my left wing, and I looked up.

I imagined I must look like hell, with my tear-stricken face and bleary eyes. There was also the matter of my mangled blond hair, but finding a comb was currently the least of my many problems.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, his dark eyes reaching mine. My expression must have betrayed I had a lot of questions bundled up inside of me, because he recounted, "They're okay. Jeb wants to take over the flock again, I left him and Angel to duke it out."

I hoped he hadn't seen my meltdown. It had been a pathetic, messy sob-fest that I wouldn't want him too witness.

_Be strong, Max. You're supposed to be strong._ That wasn't the Voice, but me. I forced myself to say: "So, are you… going back?" My voice cracked as I spoke, and my heart leapt to see Fang shake his head.

"Nah. I figured I'd rather hang with you," he said, wiping a tear from my bloodshot eyes, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You know how I feel."

Relief flooded through me before he kissed me, his silky black hair grazing my forehead as our lips touched. It was a short lip-lock, and soon I was just staring at him: his obsidian eyes and his sharp, angular face…

Fang had chosen me; Fang had chosen _me_, as opposed to the rest of the flock. This, above everything, comforted me. Made everything a little less painful.

We were still suspended, stationary, in midair, and on a sudden impulse I flew again, going downward at a comfortable speed of about 100 miles per hour. Fang trailed behind me, and we reached an isolated park, settling on a tree branch, our fingers intertwined. "Where do we go now?" I asked, feeling some content when I realized I didn't have to be the leader at the moment.

"I was thinking… Las Vegas," Fang said, tracing my cheek with his finger. I felt coolness where there had been a stray tear.

"Las Vegas?" I echoed.

"Yeah, I figure – not to far off, plenty of freaks for us to blend in with…"

I smiled and my breathing relaxed a little. "A great idea."

We took off to the skies, heading for Nevada.


	2. Boyfriend?

**A/N**

**D'awww! More Fax! Yay~ **

**The tragedy will come soon... you may not be able to bear it. Seriously, what I have planned is so sad I may not be able to write it. There will be a couple of more chapters of just Fax fluff. I'll get to the drama soon though.**

**Enjoy. **

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><p>I licked my melting scoops of Irish cream and strawberry happily (or, at least, as happily as I can) and the hand that wasn't gripping my soggy ice cream cone was holding Fang's. The sky was this dark shade of navy blue, and the bright neon lights of Las Vegas made sure only a couple of stars, small white pinpricks, were visible. We waded through the crowds of people on the sidewalk, and for you people who haven't been to Vegas, it's sort of a bizarre mix between Disney World and a seedy pub. There's fun and games, but also liquor and smoking and, of course, gambling. A grown-up amusement park.<p>

"I've been dying to go to a casino," I confessed to Fang.

"We'll have to throw ourselves three more birthday parties, then," he replied. "It's illegal – we're underage. Fifteen, Max."

I stared at him. "Since when has that stopped us? Besides, that law's just so stupid kids don't spend all their parents' money. Lookie here, we're not stupid – at least, I know I'm not – " – Fang gave me a friendly shove – " – and we don't have our parents' money, only our hard-earned cash from the CSM shows."

"Which should be running low by now."

"Don't you go all grown-up on me! We have plenty of money. I just hid some so you guys wouldn't go all 'we're rich, let's go buy diamond jewelry for our wings' or something."

Fang's eyebrows rose. "Ah, an emergency stash. Maximum Ride, always prepared."

I giggled for some reason before realizing what the hell I was doing. Me? _Giggling?_ Oh God, what was happening to me? I hadn't wanted to turn into a prissy little damsel who giggles while talking with her boyfriend.

_Boyfriend_. Had I called Fang my boyfriend yet? No, I hadn't. It seemed odd to give him such a normal title, like we were a pair of regular teenagers, with the whole boyfriend-and-girlfriend-walking-hand-in-hand-down-the-street thing. Of course, we weren't, we were a pair of avian-American mutant teenagers, but we were a couple all the same.

"Hello? Earth to Max," came Fang's voice. Oops. I had spaced out again.

Fang waved his hand in front my face. "What's up with you?"

"I have a boyfriend," I blurted out, covering my mouth with my hands. My cheeks burned as I thought, _Oh God,_ what _is wrong with me_?

A look of amusement crossed his face. "When do I get to meet him?"

I stuck my tongue out at him and pushed him away from me. "Go look in the mirror, you idiot."

Grinning, he wrapped his arm around my waist. "No, really. Did you just realize that you had a boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend is just such an ordinary term," I responded, ignoring the disgusting smell of wandering cigarette smoke and instead focusing on the threadbare stars in the night sky. "I need a better term for you, because you deserve it." Heart-to-hearts with Max... I was sure Fang was enjoying this. Yes, I'm being sarcastic.

Fang's hand crept up to my head, where he smoothed my hair back and stayed silent.

"Never mind," I said, after a long minute's thought. "There is nothing to describe you. Nothing'll do you justice."

His face was impassive, as it would always be before. He seemed to have loosened up a bit recently. Gee, I wonder why? Hint, hint… making out with yours featherly.

"I don't feel the same way about you," Fang said, his hand holding my chin up before he kissed me. The sensation was wonderful, but I pulled away angrily.

"What do you mean you don't feel the same way about me?"

"I meant I know the right word to describe you, Max," he replied, and we were so close I could make out the sheen on his eyelashes.

My voice was hoarse. "What?"

"Perfect."

Needless to say, a heart-warming make-out session followed on a park bench. How I do love Fang.


	3. Trojan Horse

**A/N**

**Fax! Fax! Fax! And more... you guessed it... Fax!**

**The plot's coming soon, guys. But for now settle with some more Max and Fang time.**

**Enjoy, and review if you wish to.**

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><p>Fang was sitting on the side of the bench and my head lay in his lap, my gaze switching from the stars above to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Winged's own handsome face. One of his arms rested on an armrest, the other on my stomach. My thoughts kept turning to the flock back home, but I pushed them away, convincing myself to forget them with bitter thoughts like, <em>They have Angel, they'll be all right. I'm dispensable.<em>

"Hey," Fang murmured, looking down at my face. "Something up?"

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and my jaw unclenched as I sighed. "I'm just thinking about the kids," I replied, rubbing my forehead, "and how much they love having Angel mind control their sorry butts into doing her laundry and crap."

"She is a creepy kid," he agreed. "But I think it's better this way."

I stared up into his sharp black eyes, which stared into my own worried brown ones. "What's better what way?"

"It's better that we leave the flock, temporarily, at least. When their blood stops boiling we can rejoin the kids and make amends."

I snorted. "_Their_ blood boiling? More like mine." I brushed Fang's hair out of eyes and felt a sweeping sensation in my stomach when he gave me his signature lopsided smile.

My brow furrowed again when I remembered the thoughts that had been bugging me since we arrived at Las Vegas. "Fang?"

"Yeah?"

I gulped in air before stammering, "Do you… think the kids are right? That I haven't been helping them lately?" My last words were whispers. "That I care more about you than I do about them?"

He searched my face before saying, "They're a little bit right. We've been focused a lot on each other lately – "

I felt a wave of guilt wash over me.

" – but you still care about them. A lot. I know you do," Fang bent over to kiss my forehead, and my cheeks turned pink, with pleasure, maybe.

"Do I care more about you than I do about them?"

Fang's dark eyes pierced me with such intensity I wanted look away. "Only you know that, Max."

My brain wanted to explode: the amount of love I had for both Fang and the flock was indefinable. I put their lives before my own, always. How could I label who was where on my list? "I only know this much: I don't want to choose between the flock and you."

I picked myself up and sat in his lap, resting my head in the crook of his neck. We sat in silence, staring at nothing in particular, not distracted by the freakish people walking down the streets of Las Vegas. Every once in a while Fang would scratch my back in between my wings, giving me little shivers down my spine – the good kind.

I had no grasp on time, so I didn't know how much later a pair of teenagers grimier than we were collapsed on our bench, the boy hiccupping and the girl staggering unsteadily while gripping his arm. What I did know was that they disgusted me. "Drunk much?" Fang asked the dude, whose garbled speech I couldn't make out. The girl, who didn't seem any older than I am, was in a tacky skirt and heels, and her orangey hair was lush and flowing, totally the opposite of her unsightly face. U-g-l-y. What made my skin crawl the most, though, was her eerie resemblance to the Red Haired Wonder, Fang's old kissing-buddy.

The guy began to tear off her clothing, right in the middle of everyone, right on the bench. The girl struggled against him, pushing his pawing hands off of her. That's what you get for getting drunk with a sick guy like that, bi-otch. They took up so much room on the bench that Fang was nearly squished. Fang and I stepped off, our revolted faces mirroring each other. Before we left, I made sure to punch the gross guy, square in the face. "Pig," I growled at him as blood poured out of his nose. I turned towards the chick, who looked terrified. "Get the hell out of here!"

She scrambled away, and after walking to the sidewalk Fang and I were swallowed up by the masses of people again. "You're such a do-gooder, aren't you, Max?" Fang poked my stomach, but I didn't laugh. Hm, I guess I'm not ticklish. Also, the situation was nowhere near funny.

"That's me," I breathed. "A good ol' Mother Teresa."

"She deserved it, you know. It's her fault for being with someone like that."

"I _know_," I replied, a little piqued by him. Did he _want_ that poor girl violated? "She's lucky I was there."

Fang didn't say anything. We passed a huge storefront with excessive lighting, but it seemed way too congested. Hello, Claustrophobia. It's me, Max. I've got no intention to suffer from you at the moment, so um, no video game arcade please.

"What time is it?" I asked Fang, leaning on his shoulder as he lifted his head up.

"Judging by the stars, around midnight."

"I'm not tired… let's not check into a hotel just yet."

"Still want to go to a casino?" he asked, the glare of the neon lights above us making his black hair look streaked with rainbow colors.

"Sure," I said. "But there's a ton. Which one should we go to?"

At that very moment popped up a modest sized, coffee-colored casino, holding around half the people the arcade did. "There. The Trojan Horse," Fang said, walking towards the entrance.

I followed, but an uneasy feeling had sprouted inside of me. "Wait… wasn't the Trojan horse this huge hollow wooden thing that enemy soldiers hid in, and then went on to freaking attack people and win a war?"

He looked a little surprised as he opened the door. "I don't know. I must have missed that lesson back in Max School."

"Never mind." I fished my pocket for change as we scanned the place. "Let's just go to a slot machine."

"Don't go crazy with your money," was all Fang said to me.

I found a row of yellow-plated machines and pushed in some quarters. "For one thing, I'm not much of a gambler, that's sweet little Angel. This is just for fun. Second, this is our break from being the grown-ups of the flock! Live a little," I teased, pecking him on the cheek.

"You realize _I'm_ the one who wanted to go to Vegas?"

"And I agreed, didn't I?"

Fang's face was expressionless for a second, and he then extended his hand. "Quarters. Now."

Grinning, I gave him a fistful. "That's what I'd like to hear."


	4. Dr HaagenDaz

**A/N**

**Finally, some plot. Don't worry, more Fax to come. But if you want a story with no plot whatsoever, find my 'Many Ties of Percy and Annabeth' story. Just fluff and fluff. Meanwhile, here, I have a plan for this tale. A tragic one, at that.**

**Enjoy, and review if you did enjoy.**

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><p>Through the glass of the slot machine I spotted a familiar man in a lab coat, wielding a syringe directed at his own forearm. Was I hallucinating? Three wolfy faces then popped up in a row, their teeth bared menacingly. I startled, recoiling at the sight of them as Fang eagerly approached. Silver quarters began pouring out of the machine's opening and into a plastic cup held in Fang's hands. "Jackpot, Max! Jackpot!" Fang giggled hysterically, jumping up and down and seeming so excited he could pee his pants.<p>

I stared at him. Blankly.

For those of you who have just joined us, Fang doesn't giggle. _Ever_. Especially hysterically. I shut my eyes, rubbing my temple and thought, _What the feathers is going on here?_

The next second I found someone shaking my shoulders and muttering to me, "Max? Max, you there?"

I jerked my head up to see I was in the same casino, only the three pictures were dollar signs and Fang seemed normal. One of his hands was curled around a cup overflowed with coins, but he didn't seem as thrilled by it. Thank God, he had really scared me with the sudden change of character.

Oh. And another thing.

Dr. Gunther-Hagen was still here, hypodermic needles poking out of his pockets. And I wasn't dreaming anymore.

Fang and I whipped around as Dr. Haagen-Daz said, his voice soft, "Max, Fang. Are you doing all right?"

"We were," I replied, glaring, "until you showed up." What was with the sudden expression of concern?

Dr. G-H studied me with a weird expression on his face, tilting his head to the right. Then he murmured, eyes widening, "Oh. Oh, no. I see you don't know yet."

"Know what?" Fang asked, his voice hard. Curiosity took root inside of me, along with a side order of fresh anxiety.

Dr. Gunther-Hagen frowned, scratching his chin. "Max, my proposal still stands. If you would cooperate, we could save so many lives. And imagine giving the gift of sight back to Iggy."

My jaw twitched at the mention of Iggy, but I snapped, "Ignore the question, much? What don't I know yet?"

"Where is the rest of the flock, Max?"

"They're in an arcade next door," I answered impatiently. "Now_ what don't I know yet_?"

Dr. G-H averted his eyes, making sure not to look directly at me. "Has Dylan made progress? Under your coaching?"

My face flushed a bit at the mention of Dylan, and I said vaguely, "Yeah, he's doing dandy. He's becoming a better flyer."

"You're lying, Max," Dr. Gunther-Hagen still didn't look me in the eye, and his voice was oddly quiet. "About the flock, I mean. I know of the little incident, young yet precocious Angel was my informant."

"_Angel_ told you?" Fang shot back angrily. "She's in league with you?"

Dr. Haagen-Daz looked at him, unfazed. "Angel believes my intentions are good. So, yes."

I sighed, hoping to address the creepy seven-year-old girl problem later. "Whatever, Dr. Creepy. Tell me this thing I don't know about before I make like a tree and leave."

"I will, if you agree to listen to what I have to say."

I crossed my arms while arching an eyebrow but nodded. Fang placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Max, if you allowed me to perform some minor experimentation, you could have so many new skills, features. If our testing proves stable enhancements, imagine how competent we can make other by sharing these in talents. A stronger generation to survive the apocalypse."

"You had me at experimentation. I am _so_ in. Who doesn't have an irrational fear of needles and genetic testing that renders them a freak? Me, that's who!"

The doctor sighed. "I've told you, you will not be harmed during testing. We can make great progress."

"What _you_ call progress _we _call mistakes," I replied, my voice steely as I remembered the horrific slideshow of mutants Fang and I saw back home on the computer. "We've seen what you've done to other 'experiments' already. Disgusting."

Dr. Gunther-Hagen frowned again, saying, "We've changed our tactics, truly. And Max. That 'thing' you don't know about. It's this: you don't have much time left. You could die at any moment. Why not make your last days count?"

I laughed bitterly, but Fang tensed beside me. "So _that's_ the big news? Oh that's a new one, definitely. Threaten my life so I'll work for you. Totally original, Dr. G-H."

"That is not what I meant," Dr. Gunther-Hagen went on, and what disturbed me is that he wasn't exasperated, or angry. His voice was… sad. "Your time is coming, Maximum, and I'm sorry. Please make your remaining time worthwhile."

"I've escaped death more times than you can count. Always," I responded, an edge of uncertainty in my voice. I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or myself. He was giving off major scary vibes.

Dr. Gunther-Hagen simply shook his head.

Officially freaked, I began to sprint towards the casino exit, Fang close behind me. Dr. Haagen-Daz didn't seem remotely surprised, looking on with a wary expression.

Fang and I launched ourselves into the air, unfolding our wings across the dark night sky, but didn't leave quick enough to miss Dr. Gunther-Hagen's call of, "Don't forget my offer, Max!"

I wish I could.

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><p><strong>Dun-dun-dun-dun! Have any idea what Dr. G-H is talking about? You will soon.<strong>

**Also, how did he know they were in Vegas? (Okay, I'm too lazy to figure that out.)**

**Wait for more chapters to find out.**


	5. Somewhere Only We Know

**A/N**

**Hey guys. I've been waiting to write this chapter foreverrrr. I've really looked forward to writing this. I didn't turn out exactly as I planned, but I still like it. I put in some blood and tears, yeah! (Kay, maybe just some sweat and a couple of hours...)**

**Skim through the lyrics. They're very sweet, but don't spend too long trying to figure out if you've heard it before (if so, awesome!) or if there's some plot revealing secret inside (even though there is)****. **

**Even you don't enjoy, I know I did. But I hope you agree anyways, that you looooved it. That you looooved it this *holds arms out wide* much! (Get the reference? You better.)**

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><p>Max and Fang entered the hotel room; Fang slipping the door key into his pocket as Max flicked the light switch on. A flat-screen TV, a fridge, and stove all emerged from the darkness, but they weren't what caught Fang's eye. What did was the bed. A full-sized mattress loaded with fluffy pillows and snowy white sheets. He and Max would share this bed. Just the two of them. Alone. Together.<p>

_Get your mind out of the gutter_, he thought to himself, embarrassed. His face probably hadn't shown much of an expression change, maybe a slight dart of the eyes, but Max knew him too well. He stood stock-still, and she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, nice room," he said weakly, but Max wasn't fooled.

"Yeah. You need a nicer one?" she plopped onto a sofa, rummaging through her pack. Fang, the amazing guy that he was, had brought spare clothes for the two of them when he came after Max. She was looking for clean sleep-clothes.

Fang shrugged, scanning the room for what he wanted. The only things he picked up were the blue striped wallpaper, leather recliner, and dining table. Crap. No computer.

Max brought out her pajama pants, which were a light and dark checked purple. She seemed to know something was up, so she asked, "What are you looking for?"

She spotted him staring at the empty desk at the bed's side. "Oh. The guy at the main desk told me they rent laptops for like, twenty bucks."

"What a rip," he grumbled, and she laughed. He loved her laugh, whether the usual snarky and sarcastic or the more rare sweet one. This one was the first. Max then rose from her seat, kicking off her boots as she did.

"I'll be taking a shower," she told Fang as she headed towards the bathroom. "You go blog or whatever."

Silent, he kissed her on the cheek and left, inducing a blush on Max's cheeks. She shut the bathroom door behind her and turned on the showerhead.

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><p>The water gushed and splattered the gray marble tile in the showering square as I placed my pajamas by the sink. I leaned against the sliding glass door, peeling off my windbreaker, shirt, and jeans. They weren't that dirty, I'd only worn them today, but I try showering when I get the chance, considering that chance might be gone the next day. I stripped down my undergarments and let them fall to the heap of worn clothes on the floor, staring at my naked form in the mirror.<p>

My blond hair was tangled and snarled, as usual, with pale brown roots and streaks while my face seemed relatively clean (hey, if there's no blood, I give myself kudos), only the small smidge of dirt here and there. My wings were folded across my back, hidden. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and studied myself, from the scars on my arms to my flat stomach and innie belly button. Meh.

"I'm a regular supermodel," I said, my tone sardonic, and my mirror-self mouthed the words along with me. I'm glad Fang doesn't care too much about beauty, because I'm, unfortunately, kind of ordinary. Yeah, yeah, I know, why is _Max_, of all people, thinking about being pretty? I don't ever remember caring about my appearance before, but I was vacationing, so the minor things I have to worry about are stupid. So there.

Steam began to curdle the showering square, and I stepped in, relishing the placation of the hot water against my skin. I lathered cream into my hair, feeling the bubbly foam under my fingers. My thoughts turned to the flock, snoring contently in their beds, as the shampoo from my head washed away, streaming down my face in long white strips. Wasn't this my daydream? That the flock was safe, away from harm, as Fang and I spent the day together, just us in a little time bubble?

I rubbed my underarms with soap as I thought tiredly, _Only in _that_ scenario, I wouldn't be freaking exiled._

I closed my eyes, relaxing.

_I walked across  
><em>_An empty land  
><em>_I knew the pathway like the back of my hand  
><em>_I felt the earth  
><em>_Beneath my feet  
><em>_Sat by the river and it made me complete_

I was, unknowingly, humming. My favorite song. _Somewhere Only We Know_, by this British group named Keane. I, rather uncharacteristically, like this song. It's a sweet, nostalgic song I discovered on a movie ad. (Winnie the Pooh, of all things.)

_Oh simple thing  
><em>_Where have you gone?  
><em>_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on  
><em>_So tell me when  
><em>_You're gonna let me in  
><em>_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

My hums turned into singing, gentle and hardly audible, so unlike my rough speaking voice. I was so out of it that I didn't hear the room door slide open.

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><p>Fang placed the laptop on the desk, settling himself into his swivel chair as he connected cables to the wall. Turns out Max was wrong, the stupid tab was <em>thirty-five<em> dollars, and he had mentally griped as he tossed the grubby hotel guy the money.

Fang could hear the rushing of water in the bathroom where Max showered as he flipped the laptop open, going to his blog. He ignored the wall of comments awaiting him from previous entries and started a new one. The thoughts that had been bothering him all day, the ones he'd hid from Max (or rather the ones he couldn't bear to tell her) began pouring out.

_Yo,_

_Fang here. Max and I (just us) are crashing in Las Vegas. We've been licking spumonis and ice cream cones and wolfing down crepes and stuffed our faces with a bunch of other foods I can't even pronounce. Yeah, I know, so romantic. But it was, actually._

_On related news, the flock kicked Max out; ever since we got together the kids have been on our case. Angel, the demon-child that she is, is probably flock leader by now. Max has been with me more and more often, and today they'd had it when we were both gone during a surprise Eraser attack: the flock told her to make like a banana and split. I came after Max when she left, and she was a total wreck. We've decided to just relax some and take a vacation, so here we are in Vegas. This utopia won't last long, though. No utopia ever does, for us anyway._

_The kids are, in however fucked up way they show it, right. Max isn't the best leader when she's with me. I've been getting these vibes that I should leave so Max can have her thoughts cleared up, so she can take on the saving the world business without me distracting her, what with my Voice and Angel and Jeb urging me._

_But I make Max happy. And she makes me happy. Safe to say, happier than I've ever been in my life. I don't want to leave her. I love Max more than anything._

Fang's jaw clenched as he typed the latest sentence. Had he been that sap Dylan, he'd probably be crying by now. The thought of Dylan made Fang tense even more.

_And then there's pretty boy Dylan, our newest arrival. I hate him. I don't care if he's the nicest guy in this screwed up world or if he can sing like a freaking angel (poor choice of words) but I hate his freaking guts. I don't want him pawing on Max, whether he was programmed to or not. I want Max to be mine._

_My mind is working like shit right now. I don't know. I really don't. If I put Max and the whole flock in danger by being with them, maybe I should leave. But I'm not sure I can make myself do it. I don't think I can detach myself from the flock, they're my family._

_And Max. I don't know what I'd do without her. It's all just too complicated._

_Signing off,  
><em>_Fang_

Fang sighed, resting his face in his hands as he contemplated everything. But something distracted his thought process:

_And if you have a minute, why don't we go  
><em>_Talk about it somewhere only we know?  
><em>_This could be the end of everything  
><em>_So why don't we go?  
><em>_Somewhere only we know_

He bolted, sitting up board-stiff as he craned his neck to stare in awe at the bathroom door, where the sound was coming from.

_Oh simple thing  
><em>_Where have you gone?  
><em>_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on  
><em>_So tell me when  
><em>_You're gonna let me in  
><em>_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

Max. Max? How? Max couldn't sing. He still remembered that day; back when Jeb played the role of Daddy-kins in their Colorado house, when he and Max were around twelve. Fang and Iggy had dared Max to sing some stupid song from the radio, and they had pestered her into taking up the challenge. Back then she was taller than both of the boys; Fang was a skinny beanpole with a shaggy dark head while Iggy was a stick with a mop of strawberry blond hair. Max had just begun to look more like a teenager, her body curves forming and her short, choppy blond locks had started to grow out. Irritated, Max had blanched out a warped version of the song while flying above their heads, leaving Fang and Iggy collapsed on the ground with laughter. She had flown away in fury afterwards, towards the mountains, and was retrieved later by Fang.

But the screeching noise from well over three years ago wasn't coming from the bathroom door. The singing was sweet and soothing, melodious. The soft song's words washed over Fang like a swath of silk. He hadn't known Max, with her husky, fierce dialect, could ever sing with such a buttery voice. Fang walked over to the bathroom, resting his head against the wall beside the door as he heard the mixture of the shower's splashes and Max's singing.

_And if you have a minute, why don't we go…_

Fang closed his eyes, taking in the music.

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><p><em>Talk about it somewhere only we know?<em>

Singing softly, I shut the shower off and stepped onto the bath mat, shaking drops of water off my body. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my chest, wringing out my wet hair with my hands.

_Somewhere only we know…_

After (lazily) drying my hair, I slid into a tank top and pajama pants, still slightly damp.

_Somewhere only we know…_

Still carrying my tune, I whirled the bathroom door open to find Fang directly in front me, leaning against the wall, seeming more relaxed than I'd ever seen him. I did a double take, my singing stopping on the spot. What the heck was he doing here?

His face softened considerably when he got a glimpse of me, and he seemed a little surprised, a little shy too. Fang? Shy? Surprised? Softened facial expression?

"What were you – "

Fang didn't let me finish. He pulled me close, his hands beneath my wings, and placed his warm lips on mine. My heart fluttered a bit as I kissed him back, angling my head with his. An unnamed, blissful feeling swallowed me up as Fang's tongue reached mine, his hands making their way to my waist.

Explanations would have to wait.


End file.
